Caldwell
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My stories
The time I tried acupuncture
The practitioner was a Romanian woman, about my age, with jet-black hair and a round, sweet face that carried a natural compassion. Before our...
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- 944 reads
School friends
I was never much for friends. In primary school I was a loner, though I didn’t have the word for it then. My younger brother was the one with a...
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- 723 reads
The lyre of Orpheus
There was a summer, not long after Breathless came out, when I listened to it on repeat. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds — a song unlike most of theirs,...
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- 677 reads
Hear the children cryin'
Some mornings I wake from dreams that don’t announce themselves as dreams. They slip into the day like breath into fog. One in particular lingered...
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- 515 reads
Lausanne Epilogue
Some mornings I wake before the alarm. The dog lifts her head, watches me for a second, then exhales and settles back into herself. I sit there in...
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- 1310 reads